How Does it Feel?
by LilyRite
Summary: There were never lies between them. Lies weren’t needed. Lies were a game that neither of them had time for. Yet, they never told each other the truth. HouseCuddy: Huddy! I warn you, it’s not one of my happier fics. please R&R.


_**How Does It Feel **_

Theitalics are song lyrics, they belong to Sugarcult's- 'How does it feel.' An awesome song that inspired me to write this fic. Also, thanks go to Gemma for being part of the reason I love House, and Huddy so much. Our chats and her art inspire me! You're taking all the blame for this fic!

I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are my own. If any grammar offends you to the point of a nervous breakdown, I could always use a complimentary and correcting email or the offer of a beta rather than an angry review. I may correct them, I may not. It's my fic and I'll make all the mistakes I want. But reviews are always greatly appreciated. Seriously, please review because they make my day!

I own none of it. Blah, blah, blah lawyers, copyright etc. I'd be surprised if any of you thought I actually own any of the characters.

No real spoilers but if you're really picky, Humpty Dumpty.

Mostly House's POV.

Enjoy………

He loved her. Back at college, he'd loved her. She'd never know it. She was as clueless now as she was then. But he had loved her. He'd watch her sleep, he'd watch her study and her glasses fall off her nose, and he'd watch her watching him and love her.

But she'd never know it was love. Because college was a long time ago.

_Well I'm back in the class, falling out of your past  
All the letters I wrote and you thought as a joke_

Lisa hadn't loved him. He didn't know it at the time but thinking of it after he left; he knew she didn't love him like he'd loved her. He would have given up college for her, given up his finals and his place on the prestigious medical course; he'd spent a year trying to get onto. He'd have given it up in a second if she'd asked. But she didn't. She'd accepted he would leave, that he would leave her to become a doctor. And because he was young and foolish, he left.

He'd promised to write. Phone calls were awkward, but letters were honest. And he had. He wrote her hundreds of letters; boring ones about his day, medical ones about the things he learnt, ones about the people he met, his new friends, and his mentor. Drunken letters were found the morning after, letters about her baseball team's scores. Once he wrote 3 pages on the weather. But he never sent them. Because he knew she wasn't in love with him, that she was moving on and that she'd find someone else. Probably find several of them.

_And the phone never rings when your cold and it stings  
All the holidays sucked by myself cause I'm fucked  
And I'm dying, dying, dying_

When the letters never came she never called him. He waited. On lonely nights, he waited, wishing so many things. Wishing he was younger, wishing she was older, and wishing he'd had the guts not to go. Wishing she'd just call. But she never called. And he never called. And it hurt. And he missed her.

And they moved on. They grew up. And he stopped wanting her to call. He wanted to move on, find someone else. And he did. He met a pretty blonde girl. And although he never loved her, like he had Lisa, she was good for him. And he was good for her. He became a doctor, he gained two specialties, and he gained prestige. The blonde became a brunette, then a blonde and another blonde and slowly he forgot her. And then there was Stacy. And for a short while they were happy. But as he knew it wouldn't, happiness never lasted.

_So how does it feel, how does it feel  
Cause it's tearing me apart  
So how does it feel, how does it feel  
Cause it's tearing me apart_

When Stacy left, he was alone. And for a while he convinced himself that was ok. He knew he didn't need her. And he convinced himself he didn't need anyone.

At the hospital she was Dr. Cuddy, she wasn't the girl he'd known, he no longer thought of her as the first girl he'd ever loved. She was Chief of Medicine and his boss. But then in the pouring rain driving home, he saw her wandering home, drenched through carrying a soggy bag of groceries and remembered the girl he'd loved. He offered a ride home and gratefully she accepted. Entering her home that day they left the last fifteen years behind them.

They both knew it wouldn't end well, but neither of them cared because for that one lonely night it was like nothing had changed. With his arms wrapped around her naked body, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

And a month later they were lonely again. And a few weeks later it happened again. Then neither could claim it was accidental or spontaneous. Both knew it was becoming a regular thing. And they went to dinner, and once a movie. But both knew it was temporary. No promises were made, both afraid they'd be broken. It could never be defined as a relationship. They weren't a couple. Inside, they both believed if they labeled what they had, when it ended, which ultimately it would do, it would somehow hurt more.

And as emotions deepened still neither spoke up. Words were left hanging; emotions were hidden as they enjoyed each other.

But as they both knew it would happen, they began to tire of the game. The odd secret night here or there wasn't enough. Or the dinner, the wine, her dress, the music. They needed more; all or nothing.

'Greg, this won't end well.'

'But damn, it'll be fun until it does.' House replied, kissing her as a distraction.

'That's not a good enough reason.' She rolled onto her side, concerned until he began to kiss her neck and she felt his hand stroke her back.

'Sure it is.'

And then for the first time he stayed until morning, and in his eyes taking the relationship further. But she didn't seem to notice. She didn't notice his appearance at breakfast as anything out of the ordinary. Watching her from across the kitchen, he studied her, observing her every movement, her every breath. As he watched her she turned and saw him. And he watched her watching him and loved her, again.

_And I'm back for some more round 2, was a bore  
And you drifted away cause you want it that way_

He couldn't give her what she wanted. He was damaged, not just a cripple. He couldn't hold her attention and she began to move on, but he didn't. He could feel her pulling away. It was so easy for her. She never said it, but he sensed she was restless, frustrated. If he asked her straight she would tell him the truth. There were never lies between them. But he wouldn't ask. Lies weren't needed. Because he didn't want to hear the answer. Lies were a game that neither of them had time for.

_And I'm picking up pieces of hearts that completely  
Are broken in two  
So it must've been you  
While you're lying in bed with somebody new_

He arrived at her house just like any other evening. But unlike any other evening someone's car was where he parked, the parking spot he claimed as his own; his parking spot. Staring at the car he realized Cuddy must have a date. He sat still in his seat, staring at the ordinary car. He didn't know how much time passed, but he was pulled out of his thoughts as the porch light go on. Looking over at the door, he saw Cuddy and a man. He watched them talk, he saw her smile and he saw him kiss her. His hands gripped the wheel in jealousy.

He waited until the man's taillights disappeared into the night before he rightfully took his parking space, suddenly testosterone fuelled. She looked startled to see him when she opened the door but didn't need to speak as she let him in.

'You look nice.' House observed. Cuddy looked down at the simple black dress.

'I went out.'

'Oh.' He had no right to be jealous but that didn't stop him. 'Hot date?' He'd meant to say it lightheartedly, almost teasing but it had come out jealous.

'Actually, yes.' She admitted turning away from him and disappearing into the other room. He wanted to believe it was guilt, but he thought pity was closer to the truth.

'Was he nice?'

'I'm not having this conversation with you, Greg.' Cuddy told him.

'Why not?' House asked, calmly. She glared at him. 'I thought we were friends. Why can't I ask?' He persisted innocently.

'Fine, he was a nice Jewish boy. Is that what you want to hear?'

'Did you sleep with him?' He asked suddenly.

'That's none of your business,' Cuddy told him crossing her arms. 'Why?' She challenged. 'Are you jealous?'

'Why would I be jealous, Lisa? We're just having fun.'

Yeah. I remember.' She replied with a sigh. 'Now if you don't mind I'm tired.

'Did the nice Jewish boy wear you out?'

'Yes, Greg.' Cuddy replied quickly losing her temper. 'I'm exhausted from all the sex we just had. I guess I don't need you anymore, now I've got a real man.'

'A man that can walk?' House asked. 'A man that can pin you up against a wall and……'

'Yes, that's it.' Cuddy interrupted sarcastically. 'It's all because you're a cripple. I don't know why you didn't see it. I've just been waiting for someone better. All this time, you were just a sympathy fuck!'

_So how does it feel, how does it feel  
Cause it's tearing me apart  
So how does it feel, how does it feel  
Cause it's tearing me apart_

That's what he liked to believe. He liked to blame it on something he couldn't fix. A medical reason that couldn't be avoided. But the truth was more painful. The truth was she'd given up on him. The truth was she'd loved him back but he'd never known it. He'd not seen it in her eyes, or in her voice. He'd missed it at college and he'd missed it now. But she had always loved him just as much as he'd loved her. But he'd never said. He'd never offered to stay. He'd never offered to take her with him. He'd left and she had to accept it. He promised to write but she never got a letter. She waited. Every day she promised herself she'd stop waiting, she'd move on and find someone else.

And then one day she did. One day she stopped waiting. She stopped waiting for a letter or waiting for the phone calls that never came. He never called so she never called. And it hurt that he'd forgotten her and still she missed him. But she grew up. She focused on her studies, dedicated on becoming a doctor. She met a nice guy, then another and gradually she stopped missing him. She accepted he was a part of her past but forgot a piece of advice a teacher once gave her. 'Learn from history or be doomed to repeat it.'

And now she was. Here she was again; falling for him. The one that got away. But once again she hadn't caught him. And she had to move on. She knew it was unhealthy and she knew she was just going to get hurt, but she couldn't help it. And she made the decision she'd move on. And she hated every minute of it. The guy was nice, but that's all it was. She didn't want dull, she didn't want predictable. She wanted Gregory House. He didn't love her. But she couldn't help but love him.

_Cause you cannot convince me anymore  
You cannot control me like before  
You cannot convince me anymore  
You cannot control me like before_

'You really want to believe that's all it was,' Cuddy shouted. 'That I slept with you out of pity. You're right Greg, I do pity you. Not enough to sleep with you. But god, I pity you. I pity how bitter you've become, how jaded, how emotionally closed off. You'll never be happy. You enjoy being miserable. You won't let yourself be happy because you won't let anyone in. So you become mean and uncaring, and hate everyone and everything. Including yourself, because you resent anyone that can walk.'

'Finally we're getting somewhere.' House answered, smiling mischievously. 'I won't lie to you, I've missed the bickering.'

'For you, Greg, it's just foreplay.'

'Exactly,' he agreed still grinning. 'I like pushing your buttons, I like knowing I can, that I can make you react. That there's this spark between us. Chemistry. I like your voice when you're angry and the way your cheeks flush ever so slightly.' He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. 'Like now, like when we're in bed. It's always been foreplay.'

He could see she was speechless. She looked away before continuing sadly. 'Is that it, Greg? One or the other. Do you really miss the arguing that much?'

'You made the decision for me with the nice Jewish boy.' It hurt. It hurt that once again she didn't feel the same way as he did and that because of pride, he wouldn't admit it to her. As much as he wanted her to know, he held it back. Because he knew she didn't love him back. And he couldn't bear to hear her tell him.

'Fight for me.' She challenged. 'Who knows? You might win.' If he'd looked at her, he'd see the hope in her eyes, the desperation as she begged him to try. But he couldn't look at her without giving away his secret too, admitting how much he really loved her. So his eyes stayed on the floor, avoiding her gaze; avoiding the possibility of her hurting him more.

'No.'

'Then you're the one that ended this.' She told him turning to leave the room.

'No, a nice Jewish boy ended this.' She ignored him as she continued to the door.

'Do you two spark?' He asked casually, even though inside he was dying. She stopped, before slowly turning back to face him and he saw her answer in her eyes. No. Not like us. But he didn't call her on it and she didn't say it.

They stood in silence staring at each other, waiting for the other to speak. Both realizing, maybe it really was over and the other didn't care enough to say something.

And, still neither said what they really felt. Everything could have been solved with 3 little words. It didn't matter who said them but if one of them took that step the other would willingly follow. But neither would risk it. Neither realized that was all it would've taken. Or maybe one of them would have said "I love you."

_So how does it feel, how does it feel  
How does it feel  
How does it feel, how does it feel  
How does it feel_

He wanted jealousy; he wanted her to hurt as much as he was. To hurt as much as he had all those years ago. It wasn't about easing his pain, giving him a moment of solace with another person. That wasn't it at all. It wasn't about his feelings, it was about hers. It was about hurting her. It was always about her.

So he got drunk.

_And it's 1:45 and I'm feeling alive  
I've got it all and it's your last call_

It was her calling. He just knew. And he waited; he watched the phone as if waiting for it to do something other than ring. He knew the number; he didn't need caller ID to recognize her number. Holding the phone in his hands he stared at the number flashing in front of him as it continued to ring. He ignored the shrill ring as he pictured her on the other end of the phone. Probably curled up on her couch, the phone to her ear, waiting with baited breath as she stared at the rain outside, waiting for him to answer the phone. She would be nervous, on edge waiting to hear his voice. In his imagination she was waiting to hear his apology, an apology he'd never give, because he was too weak to answer the phone.

And he wanted to forgive her. He wanted her to love him. He wanted an apology. An apology she'd never give, an apology he didn't deserve. But more than anything, he wanted to have faith in her, he wanted her to know how much he loved her, but it was too late. He'd had so many opportunities to tell her how he felt, tell her how much he loved her, how much he loved her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her skin, to hear her voice, to know she cared. There were never lies between them. He just needed to know that she felt the same. Lies were a game that neither of them had time for. But even without lies, words were left unspoken. The word love was never uttered even though both felt it.

_There's somebody new and she's better than you  
You've been replaced by a pretty face_

Distracted by the phone he hadn't heard Cameron appeared at the door. 'Why don't you answer it?' She asked sleepily, smiling. He didn't answer immediately, taking the time to look at her, standing there in just his shirt. Her hair tousled, and her eyes soft, he felt guilty she'd been woken. No, that wasn't why he was feeling guilty but he wouldn't admit it to himself yet.

'It's no one important,' he lied to her. As she sat down beside him, he subconsciously wrapped his arm around her as she rested her head on his shoulder.

'Then hang up,' she told him taking the phone from him. He watched the number flash once more before Cameron lifted a finger pushed the button and it went dead in her hand.

Suddenly his image of Cuddy was replaced with a new one. Still curled up on the couch the phone went to voicemail. Without thinking he looked over at the machine. She won't leave a message, he knew. He pictured her staring at the phone, as the first tear fell from her hypnotizing eyes. He wouldn't feel guilty, he reminded himself. This was what she'd wanted. He never believed the lies he told himself.

_So look who's crying now_

Word spread fast about Cameron. He was late, his head was killing from a hangover, his leg hurt and suddenly everyone was taking notice. He could see eyes watching him. Normally he wouldn't care but the guilt was already eating him up, he felt sick as hell and he didn't need everyone watching, knowing. She would have mentioned something to Chase or Foreman, who would have pushed it and she'd have shared their night. A nurse will have overheard and then through osmosis every nurse, janitor, doctor, patient, everyone would know. Everyone, everyone meant Cuddy. By now Cuddy would know about his sordid night with Cameron. She didn't pry into gossip. He respected her for that. Her assistant would be talking about it. She'd overhear the bad bits, the parts that would hurt the most. Sighing, he hobbled to the lift. As the doors opened his eyes met hers.

Cuddy looked away first. She'd said once she could never hold his gaze because it felt like he saw right through her. He pictured her saying it as he stepped onto the lift. Lying wrapped in nothing but one of his clean white sheets as they lay on his bed. The sun streaming through the window lighting her hair as she stared up at him, her chin resting on his chest as he stroked her hair, staring back into her eyes. He'd thought the same thing but as usual didn't tell her, leaving it a thought.

_We don't wanna be the enemies of what we used to be  
We don't wanna be the enemies of what we used to be_

'You're on clinic duty this morning,' she informed him staring straight ahead as the door closed.

'Goodie,' he replied sarcastically pulling his pills out of his pocket. 'Any other punishments you care to throw my way.'

'Excuse me?' She was reacting. She was pissed. And quite rightly, he agreed. Another thought left unsaid.

'I said,' he lent towards her ear before shouting as if she was deaf. 'ANY OTHER PUNISHMENTS YOU CARE TO THROW MY WAY?' He frowned when, she ignored him waiting as the door opened. Watching her walk away he called after her as he hobbled out the lift. 'No, clever retort, Doctor Cuddy? You're slipping.' He watched her return, listening to the steady click of her heels on the floor.

'What do you want me to say, House?' She asked coldly. 'What quick one-liner will do to start the argument? You've got someone else for foreplay now.'

'Lisa,' her name rolled of his tongue before he could stop it. The regret was there in his voice and they both heard it. But a thousand apologies weren't his style and neither were they hers.

'You slept with her,' it wasn't a question. She wasn't expecting an explanation, there wasn't one to give. She didn't want him to defend himself, lie, and pretend it never happened. She didn't expect that. She didn't expect anything from him anymore.

'I did.' They didn't lie. There were never lies between them. Lies weren't needed. Lies were a game that neither of them had time for. But even without lies, feelings were still felt, hearts were still broken and words would always be left unsaid.

_So how does it feel, how does it feel  
How does it feel  
So how does it feel, how does it feel  
How does it feel?_

THE END!

Did we enjoy my rather depressing story? If you did please review it. If you didn't, constructive criticism is welcome too, but flamers will be ignored or publicly ridiculed!


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